I flipped absent-mindedly through the pages of a book, unable to avoid the sounds of them making love in the next room. I wanted to scream, but I already had. Screaming doesn't help. I hope my father walks in on them, I hope that he decided to cancel his business trip and come home, and then he will open the door and see. That way I wouldn't have to keep the secret, and I wouldn't have to tell him myself. My eyes slid down the pages, meaningless gossip about celebrities, how to do your hair, where to shop. I wished at that moment I could jump into that magazine, and stay there forever. The moaning got louder, and I lay down, and shoved a pillow over my head to drown out the noise. But nothing worked, I could still hear them. Then, abruptly it stopped. I sighed a long sigh of relief, and stared at the ceiling.
I felt hollow, empty as if mother had sucked the life out of me as you would suck the yolk out of an egg you wanted to preserve. Now the house was completely silent except for the distant ticking of a clock in the hall. Tick, tick, tick, tick … then I heard the sound of a door slowly opening, and I guessed that the man was finally gone.
I went into my mother's room to speak with her only to find her passed out in her bed, I turned off her light and left … hoping that tomorrow she would feel remorse for her actions. Hoping tomorrow I would feel remorse for deciding to keep this a secret. I walked back to my room and sat on the edge of my bed thinking about the baby developing in my mother … what would he or she be like? Not anything like mother I hoped. I got up again and went in to the kitchen to fix a late night snack I realized that the clock said two fourteen, so I got a banana and ate it quickly. Then I went to bed.
When I woke up (late) I saw that, as expected mother was hung over. She drank her coffee in a daze and we didn't speak. She looked as if she wanted to, though her eyes told me exactly what she was thinking; do not tell your father about this. Not sorry, no remorse … only selfishness. God I hope never to be like her, but then again maybe this cruel, cruel fate that makes the world as it is will make it impossible for me to be any other way. I only have one thing to say; I most certainly hope not.